MED/SCI Escort Assignment SS Dover Castle

[Crash Calestorm 0]

This log takes place following our two week TBS & re-assignment orders...

 

If you had ever told Staff Sergeant Joseph ‘Big Boy’ Vega that the heavy weapons expert would be piloting a starfighter? He would have told you ‘yeah, right’ and flipped you the finger for good measure.

 

Yet here he was piloting a Tomcat after simulator training. And what had he been thinking? Never mind, don’t answer that. He’d been talked into it by a command officer with all the charm of a southern belle who shall remain nameless. The Comanche Creek’s Security, Marine and Aero Departments continued to work together to form RRF* squads and several senior enlisted officers such as Vega had volunteered for dual status. The Tom's Wizzo* was a new kid, enlisted, straight from Earth’s Starfleet Academy and Advanced Tactics at the New Topeka Border Patrol training site. She’d complete her credits on board the Comanche Creek with a combined Security and Fighter Weapons System specialty.

 

For now, they kept watch over the freighter paced by the home ship. Hornet 13 came up behind and buzzed Vega’s Tomcat, pausing velocity enough to dip the wings in a greeting and then continued off on the same vector.

 

“Uh, does that happen a lot, Sargeant Vega?”

 

“Affirmative, Crewman. Get used to it.”

 

“A senior officer doing a flyby?” The female security officer's voice held sarcasm, if some admiration. “The maverick ones are arseholes.” The dark skinned woman’s voice had an Earth Cockney accent.

 

“Open channel wireless Boot*! Watch yourself!” Joseph barked out the admonition.

 

He snorted, his faceplate dissipating the condensation. “Your Commanding Officer is not an arsehole, she’s more playful than anything. Some officers live outside the box and we have quite a few of ‘em on the ‘Creek and you’d do well to keep that in mind if you'd like to keep on keeping on. The command staffers and department chiefs are pretty decent too; Commander Wesley did time with a Marine platoon on Sherman’s Planet.”

 

“Uh, aye Sarge.”

 

The ‘best of the best’ didn’t sound convinced of these words of wisdom from the senior enlisted man, but time in the field would change the holier than thou attitude. Time always did.

 

****

Eight months at a demotion pay grade tends to change a perspective and the old dog had learned new tricks, but the ‘flybys’ would always continue. Crash smiled as she greeted Sergeant Vega and his newbie in her particular manner and then angled the Hornet fighter off towards the transport vessel.

 

Was the slap down deserved? That depended on who you asked.

 

Was politics involved? Of course. First thing we do is kill all the lawyers and politicians…

 

Was it a smart move to take on Admiral Shauna Coyote? Hellfire, no.

 

But Coyote had also protected Cale from Starfleet JAG regarding the command actions taken at Grayson and the use of an unsanctioned Intel source...yeah, when Crash went big, she went big and the Admiral was not a person to be messed with. On the bright side, Audraya Wesley had gotten some prime center seat time and the acting command stint would be reflected in her dossier.

 

The ’Creek escorted the SS Dover Castle* out of Cold Station 13, with the transport vessel carrying bio-medical and science diseases to Cold Station 12. As part of their on-going training, the combined RRF teams were on forward scout and drag detail while the ‘Creek herself stayed with the transport ship. Crash had opted to take part in the flight patrol, officially to eyeball the progress of the RRF personnel and unofficially to go to her happy place; it felt good to get outta the Blacksheep Barn for a little while. There were some officers who got off on not informing their people they were riding shotgun on an operation but she’d never cottoned much to that sort of Secret Squirrel bullsh*t, even during her stint with Intel’s Officer Recovery Program.

 

The Earth southern-bred woman spoke into the wireless helmet inset on the open squad frequency, with just a tinge of accent flavoring the words. “Good morning, Ladies and Gentleman and Other. The temperature is very cold in space. Calestorm has Hornet 13. Honor-Scar has the lead.”

 

The easy, purring lilt of Lieutenant Honor-Scar came back over the wireless. “Aye Captain and it’s nice to have you with us. If at all possible, can you keep Thirteen from impacting with the hull of the Comanche Creek? I’d be very appreciative of you not dinging my birds up. ”

 

The sassy felinoid was referring to a routine landing with Calestorm and Hornet 20 that had gone, you’ll pardon the expression, into a large hairball a few weeks back. The fighter was still under repairs, but Crash was playing with the idea of remanding it to trainer status

 

The older Human woman’s laughter rang out over the wireless feed. “I intend career landing eight hundred and fifty one to go much more smoothly, thank you very much El Tee and it’s always nice to be in formation with the boys and girls, Lieutenant. I’ll be on the drag detail per the flight assignment orders.”

 

“Aye Crash. We’ll be using call signs or fighter designation numbers from this moment forward and wireless banter is to be kept to a minimum. Jumper out.”

 

“Acknowledged, Jumper. I'll maintain drag detail with Big Boy, Crash out.”

 

The Caitian had no problems with giving orders to a superior officer in the purview of an escort mission. She was Respectful. Said what she meant and meant what she said. The youngster was progressing well for the command track.

 

Crash veered off and did a slow run down the length of the transport, doing a mark one eyeball* inspection of the vessel. Civilian money backed the vessel, but that wasn’t unusual as several of the Cold Station storage facilities were run jointly by Starfleet Sciences, Medical and civilian corporations.

 

The crew of the Dover Castle was perfectly capable of handling the transport operation, but the Medical, Science and Engineering teams from the ‘Creek had been lending assistance with the containment procedures and HVAC* systems. Officers and support crew were traveling back and forth as needed from the two ships, by shuttle or transporter depending on the nature of the assignments.

 

Calestorm’s vector continued onward to the Comanche Creek. Reminiscent of the old Saladin-class aside from the addition of the secondary hull, it was a good looking ship if she said so herself. She completed a log slow arc up to the saucer section and then flipped the bird, figuratively, completely inverting Hornet 13 so the canopy was directly above the dome of the main bridge.

 

She waited.

 

The advisement was to get away from the saucer section and back into the drag position. The request from the officer on duty at Flight Operations had been ‘official-speak’ while the request from Commander Wesley had been much more along the lines of ‘growl-speak’. Crash then cheerfully acknowledged the direction over the fighter to ship wireless.Hey, if you couldn’t buzz your own command every once in a while, what was the point?

 

She engaged the maneuvering thrusters to move the Hornet starfighter in the correct upright position and out in a gentle arc back towards the flank area of the transport vessel.

 

===

RRF – Rapid Reaction Force

Wizzo – Weapons System Officer

Boot – an inexperienced Marine or Sailor (Wikipedia)

SS Dover Castle – named in honor of the HMHS Dover Castle, a hospital vessel sunk by a German U-boat during events of World War 1 (Wikipedia)

Mark One Eyeball – the naked eye, without the benefit of scanning equipment

HVAC – Heating, Ventilation & Air Conditioning